pretend
by grisly blanco
Summary: honestly, she's glad that she was the one who was puked on and, by the end of the night, ended up clad in her bra and panties with his large blazer draping her body. — yamamoto, haru


**Title: **Pretend  
**Summary:** Honestly, she's glad that she was the one who was puked on and, by the end of the night, ended up clad in her bra and panties with his large blazer draping her body.  
**Pairing: **YamaHaru/8086, if you squint  
**Type**: One-shot  
**Rating: **T, for Gokudera's potty mouth  
**Warning**: Slightly angsty  
**Author's note**: I _did _plan on making it longer but settled for this instead. Maybe that's why I feel like I may have rushed it a bit toward the end. I apologize for that, or any errors you may come across that I missed to correct. Enjoy.  
**Disclaimer: **I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn.

* * *

She idly wondered how many insects she was murdering, as she traipsed over the open field, the grass moist underneath her feet. She was supposed to be revolted with the thought, but found her mind to be engrossed with the fact that the front of her expensive black cocktail dress (Courtesy of Tsuna, who took it upon himself to purchase these unnecessary fancy dresses for the ladies of Vongola. She would have preferred something more colorful.) was covered in vomit, a sickening variety of colors and white chunks of God-knows-what in the mix. She certainly wasn't talking about _this _type of color!

Not even ten minutes ago, Haru's loud scream of _hahi!_ echoed throughout the mansion, stilling dancers' movements, silencing conversations, and putting a stop to the music (the maestro was not at all pleased about this). Immediately, Tsuna and two of his Guardians, Yamamoto and Gokudera, were at her side. After taking in her appearance, and making note that she wasn't exactly _in trouble_, Gokudera growled and tugged at her arm, pulling her from the crowd as _ever-so-nice_ Tsuna and _easy-going_ Yamamoto apologized to everyone on her behalf. (Was she _not_ the one with puke staining her dress?)

"Stupid woman! There was no need for that! You're making the Juudaime look bad!" Gokudera hissed, once they were in a separate room and out of everyone's sight.

"Hahi!? Am I _really _at fault here!?" She yelled, gesturing to her dress.

The silver-haired man looked her over, regarding her with a look of utmost disgust. He crossed his arms and sighed, shaking his head. "Look. You could have just walked away, in a calm manner, the way a _lady_ does – AND NOT MAKE A FUCKING SCENE LIKE THAT!"

After a small session of throwing insults, she gave up and stalked off. She could hear no more. What woman would _not _react in such a way? She highly doubts any of the high-class, stuck-up women back in the ballroom were any different. Their sparkly, silky, or satin-y dresses were probably worth twice as much as all the clothes in her closet, and even _they _wouldn't stifle a scream, had their dresses been ruined. If anything, they would have asked for the perpetrator's head. Luckily, Haru is not _that_ evil.

But, that's beside the point, apparently. She is considered Vongola, and Vongola women are _not _like the majority of the women who occupied the ballroom. So, for her to act so 'childlishly' – as Gokudera would like to put it – really makes one reconsider just how easily deterred the Vongola women can be, especially the _Juudaime's fiancé_.

"That's the stupidest thing Haru has ever heard!" She shouted to the sky.

Throwing her heels to the side, she sat down on a lone bench not too far from the mansion. It was situated inside an all-white gazebo with red fencing and window boxes placed over it, keeping vibrant flowers of many kinds in place. She half-expected more fancy furniture and lighting within, but the gazebo had only been built a few days ago. Afterward, preparations for today's party were immediately taken into action. Any interior decorating would have to wait.

No one paid much attention to it, especially since the party was going to take place _inside_ and it was freezing as all hell outside, surely preventing anyone from remaining out for more than a few minutes. It was a good distance from the mansion, as well, surrounded by the garden and right in front of a pond.

The pond was her favorite. It had a stone barrier that sprouted tall grass and flower stems from its every crevice. Lily pads floated on the water, as cattails surrounded the inside of the pond (someone really needed to get rid of them). More than anything, right now, she'd like to jump in there – jump and see whether her knight in shining armor of many years ago, would come to her rescue once again.

But she knew that was not going to happen.

"You're a fast runner, Haru!"

Her head whipped back in surprise at the sound of Yamamoto's voice. He was bent over, hands on his knees, as he paused to catch his breath. He was donned in the typical black suit: black blazer, black tie, and black slacks. The only thing remotely not black was his white dress shirt and gold watch on his left wrist that shone underneath the dim lights in the garden.

Once recovered and no longer panting, he stepped inside and sat next to her, grinning. "Maybe he shouldn't have tried my sushi, huh?"

Haru scowled, not exactly wanting any company at the moment, even if said company was only trying to cheer her up, rather than poke fun at her... _situation_.

"That's not funny, Yamamoto-san." She paused, as if contemplating her next words. "... I think you make the most delicious sushi! I was the one who was eating most of it," she said, matter-of-factly.

Then again, she rather he is in her company than Octopus-Head.

He laughed, waving his hand downward. "Now, now. I'm not the one who needs to be comforted right now." He said, eyes scanning her dress.

Her nose twitched. She was so upset that she wasn't focusing on the smell, but as if to mock her, a waft of bad odor abruptly filled her nostrils. Pouting, her shoulders slumped in defeat.

"I shouldn't have run out like that," she admitted. "Stupid Octopus-Head makes me so mad."

Yamamoto nodded, smiling as he ruffled her hair. "Yeah, you really shouldn't have. Boss was worried about you. He knew Gokudera would have said the wrong things to you, and asked me to come get you instead."

She pushed his hand away with the back of her hand, suddenly feeling down all over again. She peeked over her shoulder to look over the mansion not too far from where she and the Rain Guardian were located, and can vaguely hear laughter and joyful chatter emerging from the tall open windows at the balcony.

Noisy, lousy drunks, the lot of them. She was still upset – and rightfully so – that her dance partner vomited on her. How dare he ask a woman to dance, when he cannot balance himself on the dance floor, let alone lead like a man should _properly_ do so? Of course, he was a rather important man, the boss of whatever-the-heck famiglia. He had asked her to dance (repeating it at least three times, as it would always come out as a big slur, thanks to his thick accent and heavy alcohol intake), and after shooting Tsuna a wary look, he nodded. Oh yes, _ever-so-nice Tsuna-kun_, indeed. Kyoko-chan, with one arm looped through his, gave her a thumbs up and reassuring smile. _Ever-so-supportive Kyoko-chan_. She loved them both, but at that moment, she wanted nothing more than to sputter obscenities and _hahi_ness in an unladylike manner at the unfairness of it all.

_Composure, composure. _

She had repeated the words over and over in her head, as he spun her sloppily and pulled her into his chest. He was Spanish, and was speaking to her in his foreign language, his attempts at _papi suave_ coming out very unappealing. And boy, did he reek of tequila.

Haru shivered, refusing to repeat the next scene in her head.

"Are you cold?"

The question snapped her out of recollecting events that happened in less than half an hour. "Oh. No. Just—" she exhaled, making different hand gestures to make up for her sudden loss of words.

Yamamoto chuckled. "Just what, Haru?"

She stared at him, long and hard, searching. His hands are placed on his knees. Those hands, such big hands, have taken the lives of many with the helpful use of his katana. They've been stained with blood, and she wonders whether he still sees the blood on his hands, long after he's scrubbed it with soap and water. Her gaze meets his eyes now, and they stare back at her – eyes that have witnessed everything that she would rather not see for herself. Tender eyes he has. So she wonders again, wonders if they're truly hardened to it all.

"You ever stop to think, that maybe it's hell, y'know, having to act like everything is okay all the time," she said slowly, afraid that such observation – hypocritical as it was – would make the corner of his lips tug downward, in an un-Yamamoto-like frown.

A sigh of relief escaped her lips as he laughed, laughed in that carefree, gentle laugh of his. It was soothing, in a way, his laugh. Even from the corner of her eye, she was able to tell that he was smiling. He seemed to _always_ smile. For most of her years, she did too. Today, though, she couldn't bring herself to smile – and it wasn't from her current nasty predicament.

Such an accusing question, it seemed. Yet, to her, it seemed most appropriate to ask him, out of all people. He always managed to remain calm in most situations. Unlike him, she openly worries, her heart shamelessly going out to the members of Vongola, her _family_, whenever they are broken down.

Although they are no longer children, I-Pin and Lambo are always at her side whenever they are having any teenage-problems that can't be solved with the help of anyone else but her, because she is patient and she listens. And also, according to them, she's the most probable person in knowing how to _deal_ with such situations, as she once was a dumb teenager. (She chooses to ignore that, and think that since she raised them since they were babies they see her as a mother-figure, of course.)

She hates having to tend to a bloody mess, but does so anyway, because although the other men can nonchalantly turn on their heel at the sight of an injured partner, she _sees_ the pain in their eyes, the shame that they have let a man of theirs down because they couldn't make it in time to prevent the injuries that _could have _been limited – or not been inflicted altogether. Either way, no indifference – unintended as it is – should be passed upon the injured man, stubborn as he is to admit he really does need the assurance, _comfort_. Haru doesn't complain, even with Hibari's cold attitude and threats of 'biting you to death' if she did not stop the bleeding, or Gokudera's shouts of 'stupid woman' whenever she applied an alcoholic cleansing pad to his open wounds. She was used to it, and although she can't attend to any more severe wounds that only a doctor can fix, she always sees the barest hints of gratitude in their eyes.

When Kyoko first began having problems with Tsuna a few years ago – Haru didn't know how, since he's _ever-so-nice –_ she was, without a doubt, there for her. It wasn't until after a good amount of tissue that Haru understood that it wasn't really Tsuna; it was the fact that she is the girlfriend of a mafia boss, and feels _pressured_, afraid that she will not be able to meet the expectations of a good mafia girlfriend. So Haru, _ever-so-understanding _Haru she is, pats her best friend's back and assures her that Tsuna expects nothing more than she's already given, and that is being his girlfriend, and undoubtedly, his wife in the future. She needs to strong, more mentally than anything, and accepting of the lifestyle that _is _Tsuna.

Prior to Tsuna asking Kyoko to be his girlfriend, Haru was persistent and open with her affections, but she was patient and hopeful. Patient, when she knew such feelings may never be reciprocated, but hopeful because she wasn't _certain_ about the notion and played with the notion of her being his, one day, even more. After Kyoko became Tsuna's girlfriend, she still had that hope that Kyoko wouldn't be able to cope with the title, let alone being a _wife_ – but Haru shamefully put the thought aside when she realized this is her _best friend_ she's talking about. She stopped hoping.

Through their first year of dating, she maintained a smile and reprimanded her heart many times for aching at the mere sight of them. As for the years following that, she was okay, her heart was _okay_. But when Tsuna proposed to Kyoko last week, she didn't know why it felt like a big slap to her face. It was inevitably going to happen, after all. Yet, the dawning realization that the two people she loved most were finally making a pact to stay together _forever_, made her feel the same way she did when they began dating: resentment, heart wounded and her mind lost.

While mulling over many tasty pastries, she came to terms that any resentment she felt wasn't necessarily directed at them, but more so herself; because she was aware that she was purposely unaware of remaining hopeful, after all these years. Such a stupid woman she was. At that moment, she would have allowed Gokudera to call her the same, so that it may further sink in.

She was surprised at herself when she did not cry when she heard the news.

"Where's this coming from all of a sudden?" He asked, with an eyebrow rose in genuine curiosity, the smile never leaving his face as he placed an arm around her shoulders.

"I don't know," she lied, her lower lip unintentionally jutting out in a pout. "Haru really doesn't know."

He was laughing again, and she felt his large hand give her right shoulder a firm, _reassuring_ squeeze. And, to her surprise, he leaned in and pressed his lips against her forehead in a gentle kiss. His lips felt cold against her skin, but that didn't prevent the sudden burning sensation that made its way to her ears and worked their way to her cheeks.

"Yamamoto?" She whispered, unsure.

"Takeshi." He said against her forehead. He pulled away, and he was no longer smiling. She wasn't sure what to make of his emotionless expression that followed his unexpected, _intimate_ gesture. It's surely not like what she's read about in books or seen in movies. Even so, she couldn't help but to think how romantic it could have been, had she not been covered in vomit, of course.

The Rain Guardian rose from his seat beside her, and lowered his hand in front of her face. "Come on, let's head back in. You're beginning to stink and I believe a change of clothes is in order."

There was humor in his voice, and that's what she needed, to rid the atmosphere of such awkward tension. Haru readily grasped his hand and nodded. As they walked back in silence, he stopped once to shoot her a lazy smile, the scar on his chin sinking a little. She then couldn't help but recall another time he kissed her in the same fashion.

It was healed now, his scar, and she remembers when he first came to her several years ago in all smiles and bloody gory, asking if she's able to 'do something about it'. She really couldn't, because it seemed like the gash required stitches, but she said nothing and cleaned his wound. It wasn't until she was done that she ordered him to visit a real doctor. He complied and whispered a soft 'thank you', then surprising her with a kiss to the forehead. He laughed when she let out a shriek of _hahi_ and shoved him before stalking off.

She felt stupid now – stupid that, for the first time, she already misses the feel of cold lips against her forehead.

* * *

"What."

It took all her strength to not loudly utter another 'hahi', so she settled for a strained 'what' instead.

"Sorry about that, Haru," Yamamoto apologized.

"But it's _Haru's _room! They can't do that! I'm going to let Tsuna-san know of this—" She paused, and bit back her next words. No, she couldn't bother Tsuna. Especially not tonight, during _his engagement party_. She had already embarrassed him once; she can't make a return to the ballroom, in all _papi suave_'s vomit glory, to complain, yet again. However, she does have every right, seeing as a drunken woman has made herself comfortable in own her room, to rest off a 'troubling headache'. _And_ she has three bodyguards positioned right outside, refusing to let anyone enter. (She should have locked her room, she thought wryly, like a _normal_ person does.)

She silently scolded herself. If she hadn't taken up Yamamoto's offer in remaining in his bathroom while he made way to her room to fetch clean clothes (since his room was on the other side of the building, where the party was not held, and she wouldn't have to embarrass herself by running into any more people) she knew she would have caused a scene once encountering those rigid guards.

But really?! Who did they think they are! Just because the woman belonged to one of the Varia's members, she thinks she can do as she pleases. Now she can't _possibly_ have Tsuna handle it, or else bloodshed will commence. Well, not really, as Xanxus will control his anger, for the sake of being _civil_, but he'll make sure to _brazenly _voice any colorful threats. Maybe something along the lines of 'fucking scum, if you want to complain like a bitch I'll remove anything of _use _to you so that Sasagawa brat can _marry_ a bitch'.

"Do you want me to speak to Squalo?"

Oh no. Blood _will_ be shed.

"No!" She said from the other side of the door. "No, it's fine, thank you."

"Maybe the girls have something for you? I can go ask Kyo—"

"NO!" She quickly chided herself for sounding rude, but she didn't _want_ to bother anyone, especially Kyoko. The newly fiancé did not need that. As her best friend, Haru did not want to be the one to cause her any trouble on an important night.

She took a long glance in the full-length mirror; clad in nothing but her black bra and underwear, along with a pearl necklace, Miura Haru still felt naked as ever. Luckily, it was warm in the large bathroom, and she had half a mind to run a bath in the jacuzzi. But that would have been inappropriate, and surely Yamamoto-san wouldn't allow her to _bathe_ in his bathroom.

"Haru, may I come in?"

"Hahi!? W-What for!?"

He didn't respond, but rather took it upon himself to slowly open the door. (She didn't lock it, because this was _Yamamoto_, after all, and he wouldn't _dare _peep in on her.) She quickly wrapped her arms around her in instinctive defense, as if it were going to shield her half-naked form from his eyes. She made a go for a hand towel and just as she was about to launch it toward his expected figure, she stared in confusion at the half arm that was in the bathroom, a black blazer dangling from its hand.

"Use it for now, while I search for something clean and more comfortable. It should be able to cover up most of your body," he explained.

"O-Oh. Thank you." She said, tentatively grabbing his coat.

"No need to thank me, Haru!"

Strangely enough, it smelled just like Yamamoto, a sort of manly, _appealing _smell. It was pleasant to her sense of smell, in comparison to the horrid stench of the vomit.

She couldn't help but twirl herself in his blazer in front of the mirror.

* * *

"I look silly, don't I?"

She stood in front of him, arms raised at her side, which lifted the blazer just a bit over her thighs.

He laughed and tousled her hair, earning a playful smack to his arm.

"Haru's serious!"

"Alright, alright!" He grinned. "To be honest, I think my blazer suits you."

The compliment bit back any witty response she had already formed in her head, and the familiar burn was settling on her face again. Regaining her composure, she crossed her arms and brought her chin to the air, giving a loud _hmph_.

"Thank you. Haru appreciates it."

He nodded, and once again, that same serious expression was there on his face. It unnerved her, because she wasn't used to it and now it was just so _random_.

"You're referring to yourself in third person. Something's wrong," he accused, his eyes narrowing.

She definitely wasn't prepared for that. He was right, though. She had dropped the habit years ago, and found herself picking it up whenever she was upset, especially when engaging in arguments with the Storm Guardian.

"I've known you long enough to also know that you never do so unless you are bothered. It's one thing having to hear it when you're arguing with Gokudera, but you're not even in his presence."

_Easy-going Yamamoto-san is ever-so-observing_, she judged.

"Har—_I _don't know what you're talking about, Yamamoto-san," she responded with a bit of edge to her voice.

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, walking toward her before coming to a halt a foot away. "It's Takeshi. _Takeshi_." His hands grabbed both her shoulders and he spoke softly. "You ever think it's hell, having to act like everything is okay all the time?"

It wasn't until the taller man pulled her into a tight embrace did she notice she was crying, crying so hard that she was sure his chest was wet with tears and snot. The true underlying question was there, and she knew he knew.

"Yet you do so anyway," he continued, "for the sake of not worrying your friends."

"A-And Haru has to continue doing so"—she sniffed—"because it's all I _can_ do."

If she didn't know him any better, she would have thought he was done surprising her for the night – she was wrong.

He gently pried her sobbing form off his torso and gave her a long, meaningful look that left her entranced underneath his gaze, putty in his hands. He lowered his head, and when his lips leaned below her forehead, she froze.

_He won't possibly... ?_

Soft lips kissed the corner of her mouth, lingering for a few moments, as both his hands slipped through her layers of hair and held her head in place. A twinge of disappointment settled in her chest when he pulled away, and she wished she could say something, _anything_, but her mouth only remained slightly open in awe.

"Can't do it forever," he said, smiling. His lips then fell to her ear and he breathed in and out slowly, causing her to shiver. "And once you're done wallowing in self-pity, I'll be here."

She laughed for the first time that night, and she found it easier to stop crying. He gave her a toothy grin and she returned it with a hug, wrapping her arms around his waist and digging the side of her face into his chest.

It was crazy, really, how the immense weight she felt in her heart was lifted immediately and she felt _genuine _happiness for Tsuna and Kyoko. She's not the only one who pretends, and she's not the only one who suffers, and to think that she can pretend forever is _not_ acceptable. So she'll smile, and it won't be forced as it once was; she'll smile, because she is Miura Haru, and she is stronger than that.

"Thank you... _Takeshi_." she whispered against his chest.

"You're welcome, Haru."

For some reason, she could almost hear the smile in his voice as he said that.

_fin_

* * *

**Author's note**: I also apologize for the vagueness in Takeshi and Haru's relationship here. I did hint at Takeshi liking Haru, for a _long_ while, but I can't picture him ever taking first initiative when it comes to girls he likes without being _vague _in his actions. If you're not satisfied, I may just write a tiny sequel. Reviews are loved. :)


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